Wind and Words
by Shelley G
Summary: Post 8x06 Jon returns to wall to live out his days as a brother of the Night's Watch, but in the wise words of Maester Aemon: "We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy." Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_You shall take no wife…_

Jon dismounted in the yard of Castle Black after a month North of the Wall, helping Tormund and the wildlings reestablish camps. He body ached from the cold, but the cold was home and felt like the appropriate repayment for the man who slayed the Dragon Queen. His brothers had taken to calling him the Queenslayer. At first he'd thought it was in mockery, but he'd since recognized the awe in their eyes.

While the Unsullied and Dothraki might have demanded justice for their slain queen, his own people didn't condemn him for the actions he'd taken.

"Queenslayer." Peg, a man with a wide, flat nose and more brawn than brain called to him. "You've got a visitor."

A visitor. Jon frowned at this. He couldn't imagine who would come to visit him. Arya had gone to sail off the edge of the known world and the rest of the world had sent him to its edge in the hopes that time would simply forget the trueborn son of Rhagar Targaryan and slayer of Daenerys Targaryan, mother of dragons.

He passed off the reigns to Peg.

"Where?"

"Your chambers," Peg said.

Jon frowned at this but wordlessly went to investigate.

He entered his long neglected chambers and found a hooded figure kneeling at his hearth, building a fire.

Upon hearing his entrance, the figure rose and turned to face him, lowering her hood.

"Sansa." He said, forgetting himself momentarily. Quickly he dropped to one knee in respect. "Your grace."

"Don't be a fool, Jon." Sansa said, "There's no need for that."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Jon's expression split into a wide smile and he threw his arms around her. He held her tight until the cold that had long infused with his bones began to thaw.

"Long live the Queen in the North." He murmured and then kissed her forehead.

"I'm not officially here, Jon." She said softly.

He frowned at that. "Why did you come?"

"Tyrion… he sent me a raven." She said. "Jon… I have to ask. Why did you kill Daenerys?"

Jon shook his head, not wanting to be reminded of the sin that had sent him to his exile.

"Jon, please…"

He swallowed hard. "She wouldn't see reason. She would have killed anyone who opposed her."

"Anyone…" Sansa said studying his face. "Or me?"

Jon looked away, uncomfortable under her gaze.

"Would you ever have bent the knee?"

"You know the answer." Sansa said, her tone even and unreadable.

"Love is the death of duty."

"Jon… why did you kill her?" Sansa pressed.

"You know the answer." He said, meeting her gaze.

She gave him a wavering smile and took his hand in her own.

"I do."

She spent that night in his arms and every night after for a fortnight, before duty called her back to Winterfell. His brothers said nothing and his Lord Commander turned a blind eye. It seemed as though they considered it the least they could do for the condemned savior of Westeros.

_But what is honor compared to a woman's love?_

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**Some shameless Jonsa fluff.**

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	2. Chapter 2

_You shall father no children…_

When Jon received the raven from Winterfell, he was on his horse in minutes. He did not ask the Lord Commander's leave, but he doubted the man would send anyone after him. He would return. He was, after all, a man of honor.

Despite riding hard and changing horses at every opportunity, the journey took over two weeks. When he reached the castle in the dead of night, he did not wait for welcome. He knew his way by heart and went directly to the Queen's chambers.

He found Sansa sitting beside the fire, a babe at her breast. He knelt by her side and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

She leaned over and pressed her forehead to his.

"It's a boy." She whispered, slowly shifting the child from her arms to his.

His heart pounded harder than it ever had in battle and the feeling of the small, fragile body in his arms.

"What did you call him?"

"Robb."

Jon's eyes stung with tears.

"Robb Snow." He whispered.

"Robb Stark." Sansa corrected with a small smile, "A perk of being a queen."

They held each other through the night, enjoying their perfect little family. And within those walls, true names and titles, honor and dishonor, duty and shame, held no meaning. Within those for walls, they were the Starks of Winterfell, and the pack was united and strong.

Jon did return to the wall, but his rides South to Winterfell increased in frequency and each trip lengthened in duration. Until the Lord Commander named Jon Snow the representative of the Night's Watch to the Queen of the North, allowing that he need only report back to the wall once a year.

In time, Winterfell was once again filled with Starks. Robb was followed by Caitlyn and then Eddard, Rickon, Lyanna, Rhaegar, and lastly Aegon.

If the 6 kingdoms to the South objected over the Queen of the North's interpretation of Jon Snow's exile, they chose to turn a blind eye. Afterall, the North did not recognize the authority of King Bran the Broken. The North recognized no king but the King in the North, whose name was Snow though his children were Starks.

_But what is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms?_

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